Within Dreams
by LabyrinthineMind
Summary: A story in which a magical source instructs Arthur to find and kill Emrys, while giving Merlin terrible nightmares. What shall happen? MerlinxArthur if you reeeaaaallly squint.
1. Black Smoke

**Within Dreams**

**Okay, so I know many people will be mad... Why am I not posting for my Criminal Minds/ FMA fic? WHY DAMMIT? To these people I say sorry... I don't really know why... writers block mostly. Annoyance with FMA: Brotherhood. I love everything... except for Al's voice and Ed's hair. Such shallow reasons to be annoyed, but blah! I get to be shallow about some things! Anyway, sorry! I will do my best to work past this block... I know it's been months though, so you've probably all given up hope.**

**Aside from that dreadful note, which I am sure does not make you want to read this fanfiction at all... I don't blame you. I love Merlin deeply and when this plot got stuck in my head I had to try. There is a lot written, but not all edited... goodness, I need a BETA. Anyway, ENJOY!**

Arthur knew he was sleeping. He even knew he was dreaming, but he somehow knew this wasn't quite a normal dream.

_A thick black smoke curled up from the ground, as if it was being secreted from the soil itself. The black smoke coiled around Arthur, at first only swirling harmlessly around his ankles, but then, without any warning, or seemingly without passage of time, the smoke had taken hold of his throat. It appeared the smoke had developed fingers, which now dug mercilessly into the soft pale flesh of Arthur's neck. He tried desperately to struggle free, his fingernails clawing at the smoke, but to no avail. All Arthur's prying fingernails succeeded in doing was drawing blood from his own skin while effortlessly slipping through the black smoke. The action was pointless, but he persisted. How could something without substance be having such an effect on him? How was it so strong? How could he fight it?_

_It was when Arthur was sure he was on the verge of insanity that the voice spoke. The earthy roar resonated all around him, drawing a wince from the young man's body, "Hello, Arthur."_

_"Who are you? What do you want?" Arthur's words were smothered without air to fuel his voice, barely audible in the blackness. Even in his own ears he sounded, tiny, ridiculously frightened of an enemy too cowardly to show its face. _

_The smoke tightened its grip substantially, pressing in on his entire body, while still clinging to his neck, "That is not for you to know, young Pendragon. I am only a messenger of the despair which is to fall upon you and your precious kingdom."_

_"Despair? What are you talking about? Let me GO!" Arthur bellowed in a strangled voice, his eyes darting around the blackness. It was useless; all he could see was his own skin, illuminated by an unseen light, and the black smoke. He wondered vaguely if the smoke was everything around him. Even if he could escape and run, would he simply run into a wall of black smoke? Like a mouse escaping the claws of the cat, only to scurry into the jaws of a harsh metal trap?_

_The smoke flowed upward, brushing through his hair with its vaporous, frigid fingers, "Hush, _little_ warrior. You're so very _noisy_." _

_Arthur glared at the black around him. How dare it speak to the crown prince like that? Did it realise... He paused. Did it realise what? It knew exactly who he was... and it didn't _care_. The thought chilled Arthur to the very centre of his being. _

_The voice cooed at him in an irritatingly patronizing tone, "The despair will come as a result of a single person. Someone who lies very, very close to you, in wait."_

_"Who?" Arthur demanded his voice regal now even through his fear and lack of oxygen. His anger was undoubtedly fuelled by the very idea of someone close to him betraying everything he stood for, betraying _Camelot_. _

_"_Emrys_," the name was but a hiss as the smoke began to dissipate, but it still sent shivers down Arthur's spine. _Emrys_._

_"Wait!" Arthur grasped at the smoke as it fell away from his neck in wisps, his rough fingers connecting with nothing but a feeling of cold emptiness. _

_"What can I do to stop this... _Emrys_?" he shouted, lungs now burning with sweet oxygen._

_The voice laughed, a low, dark chuckle; existing only to aggravate the young prince, "You think you can defeat _Emrys_? He is only the most powerful sorcerer the world has ever seen. Your foolishness is _amusing_."_

_"A _sorcerer_? Then _tell_ me! How can I defeat this sorcerer?" Arthur shouted with all his might. There was a _sorcerer_ close to _him_?_

_"You must first _find_ him, _little prince_," The voice taunted. "Then you must run him through. Do not hesitate, or you will die and Camelot will be lost." _

With those words the voice dissipated completely and Arthur shot awake, panting, his body drenched in sweat. First he let his fingers drift to his neck, leaving them stained in blood. That was no dream. He then jumped from his bed, disentangling himself from the sheets that had somehow wrapped around his legs as he dreamed. From the wall he wrenched a magnificent sword. It was one of the best ever made, specifically for him, balanced to perfection. The handle was a mass of jewels and curving, twisted gold. The blade had been folded time after time to strength the steel and produce a weapon so formidable that others looked like mere foils in comparison.

Arthur then pulled a dagger from beneath his pillow taking the point of the dagger to the flat of the blade with slow precision. The bare skin of his back prickled with gooseflesh as he produced the name which had so vividly haunted his dreams. The word came out in a jagged and scratched script, glistening oddly in the metal of his sword. _Emrys_.

Merlin's sleep was far from restful. In his dreams a sickly black smoke flowed freely, seemingly from the air around him. The smoke drifted closer, surrounding him, striking fear into his heart. All around him he heard the whispered words of the old religion, they were not words he could comprehend, nor were they words he could remember when he woke. They were simply there, and then they were gone, leaving unease in their wake.

When Merlin woke he found it was too early to go to work but too late to go back to sleep. This was a phenomenon he experienced very seldom. Once he was prepared for the day, he took the time to make a meal for Gaius and himself, before scurrying off to "be of service to Arthur". He first visited the wells to fetch water for the kitchens before snagging some of Arthur's favourite breakfast foods and ambling up to the royal bedchambers of the kingdoms one and only royal prat.

He pushed the door open with his hip, and set the tray down on the grand oak table in the main section of Arthur's chambers before preparing everything else for the prat's day. Arthur stirred with a groan upon hearing Merlin drop a large hunk of firewood on the cobblestone floor. Merlin ducked, narrowly avoiding the pillow chucked at his head from under the royal bed sheets. Merlin wondered how Arthur had managed to aim so well without cracking a lid.

"Up a little early, are we _Merlin_? I don't think you've ever been here on time before." Arthur sneered, ambling out of bed and over to his changing screen.

Merlin knew this was true, but that didn't mean he had to admit it to Arthur. The young warlock glared pointlessly at the screen which hid Arthur from his view.

It was while Arthur changed that Merlin first saw it. It was sitting, oh so harmlessly on Arthur's rumpled, satin bed sheets. He didn't touch it. No. He was convinced it might have burned him if he dared. However, his hand still hovered, shaking over the word engraved in the glinting, dangerous metal blade, _Emrys_.

That was _him_. Merlin swallowed hard, his entire body vibrating with disbelief and complete horror.

"A-Arthur." the word came out choked, strangled and inaudible. Merlin's voice lost the strength to go on halfway through the word. He was sure he the black smoke from his dreams was filling his throat, stealing his breath and his voice.

"Like it?" Arthur's voice purred from behind Merlin. There was a certain maliciousness to Arthur's beautifully rugged features, but it wasn't directed at Merlin. There was something threatening about standing before Arthur when he was full of so much determination, and fuelled by so much hate.

"N-nice p-p-penmanship." Merlin sputtered, haphazardly, retreating to the table to set out Arthur's breakfast.

Arthur smirked, "The only person this sword is meant for is _Emrys_, and anyone else who stands between his heart and my blade."

Merlin swallowed.

"Oh, what _is it,_ Merlin?" Arthur said in that princely condescending voice of his, it so easily communicated his annoyance with his manservant. "You look positively ill!"

**TBC...**

**Well, that's all I'm giving you for now. Please, please, please, review if you'd like this to continue. Thanks for being awesome. **


	2. Hunting

**I just realised I forgot to tell you I do not own _Merlin... so now you know._**

**Chapter 2**

He _knew_. _Arthur_ knew. Too many things ran through Merlin's head at once for anything to actually be coherent. Anything outside of one question.

It was a moment before Merlin found the will to voice it, "W-why?" The word was faint. Arthur had to lean towards his manservant to hear it.

"A voice came to me in my dreams last night. It told me of Emrys and his treachery. He's a _sorcerer_. So, I must run him through, in order to save Camelot." Arthur nodded his head slightly, trying to convince himself of the words which flowed so freely to his most trusted friend. Dreams weren't the kind of thing the average person put their faith in, but he felt he needed to, and Merlin wouldn't tell his father out of fear. Merlin wouldn't ridicule Arthur for his trust in silly dreams.

"No..." Merlin muttered, drifting off into thoughts of himself facing Arthur's blade, shoved into a fiery pit upon the price's order, quartered by the guards strongest horses...

"Merlin?"

"Hm?" Merlin murmured, his mind still lost in the fiery pyre built specifically for Merlin... The sorcerer... _Emrys_.

"We're going on a hunting trip," Arthur said, his prat-ness clearly evident. Merlin gulped at the warm air around him, trying to gain his bearings, and not vomit.

"You're a prat," Merlin blurted before he could catch his tongue.

"Merlin." Arthur's tone suggested it was less of a question, and more of a warning.

"I mean..." silence ensued as Arthur waited for Merlin to defend himself.

"Do I have to come?"

"Merlin." The warning was lower this time, kind of like a growl.

"Well, _that's_ a yes. How long will this torture last?" Merlin was off his game. Where had his tact gone? This was when he needed it, to keep his butt out of the stocks! Out of... Out of the _fire_. He shuddered again.

"Merlin..." this time his name _was_ a growl.

Merlin swallowed. "Yes, sire?"

"Go pack. Enough for a week," Arthur said, looking vaguely amused by his manservant's antics.

Merlin bowed his head sheepishly, "Yes, sire." and made for the sweet escape of the hallway.

"And Merlin?" Arthur said, a smirk marked his smug face. "Don't screw up."

Merlin bowed his head to hide his grimace, "Yes... Your royal... _Pratness_." And he was gone, as fast as his legs would carry him.

Arthur grumbled something about Merlin being an idiot as he sheathed his sword, hiding the word _Emrys_ beneath the creased leather.

Merlin packed his own things, then rations, and then everything the prat would need. He bid a wary goodbye to Gaius, who watched the boy go with a concerned expression.

The hunting party consisted of the Prince, three knights, and Merlin. Merlin prepared the horses and led them into the yard, where his Royal_ Highness_ and the knights were waiting impatiently.

"We haven't all day, Merlin." Arthur snapped, quickly mounting his horse.

Merlin followed suit, nearly falling off the other side of his mount in the process, silently thanking his patient steed for not bolting. Arthur rolled his eyes.

That day's hunt went by, ultimately uneventful. Merlin was able to scare away much of the game unintentionally; by tripping over rocks and roots when they were on foot, and simply by talking too loudly when they were not.

By the time they set up camp Arthur was infuriated with Merlin and Merlin had a terrific headache from the many swats he had taken to the back of the head.

"Merlin," Arthur said, his voice exasperated, but still slightly amused.

"Yes, sire?" Merlin muttered, his eyes darting quickly to the sword ordained to penetrate his heart, the sword with his _name_ on it. He shuddered for the hundredth time that day.

"Go fetch the firewood and start preparing the meal," Arthur quipped, he didn't like how pale Merlin turned every time Arthur glanced at him. His pallor was extraordinary in the best of circumstances, but this was a little much. Arthur really hoped Merlin wasn't coming down with something. Merlin was enough of a handful without an illness thrown into the mix.

Merlin created the fire and prepared the meat without much trouble. It seemed he could still function, as long as Arthur didn't look his way, that wretched sword hanging menacingly at his side. He then set to the task of laying out Arthur's bed, which was much more challenging than it might have seemed. A single pebble and the royal prat would complain at Merlin like Merlin'd somehow placed the rock there intentionally, and then gone off to cause all the injustices of the world.

Once Arthur was satisfied with the location and general comfort of his bedding, Merlin would set up his own. He set his bed up against a large log a little ways off. This insured both warmth from the fire and quick access to Arthur should someone attack. Just because Arthur didn't know how often Merlin protected him didn't mean Merlin was free of the duty when the prat fell asleep.

They all hungrily ate their portions of the meal, though it was substantially less than they would have had if Merlin wasn't a bumbling idiot.

Once everyone was tiring and finished sharing exaggerated war stories by the crackling fire Arthur declared that Merlin would take first watch. Merlin thought it was an unjust punishment for his stumbling earlier that day, but in all honesty Arthur knew Merlin was less likely to fall asleep if he took first watch.

Merlin spent the duration of his watch staring into the fire flickering flames of orange and blue, pondering Arthur's recent obsession with finding and killing Emrys, finding and killing _Merlin_. It was as sudden as it was unexpected, and he couldn't help but wonder what kind of dream could have brought it on. Then his mind drifted for an inordinate amount of time to how Arthur would choose to kill him. When Merlin was discovered would Arthur use the sword which carried Merlin's name like a crest? Or would he choose to make Merlin suffer the flames of a blazing pyre, maybe forcing Merlin to build the pyre himself? Would Arthur be the one who bound Merlin to the stake? Would Arthur be the one that dropped the burning torch onto the dry wood, propelling Merlin into a fiery abyss? Merlin was absolutely sure all these macabre thoughts were going to give him nightmares, but he couldn't get it out of his head, it just hung their taunting him. Merlin glanced at Arthur's peaceful features and then to the sword clenched tightly in his large fist. Again violent tremors racked Merlin's body, both tiring and causing him to whimper. Arthur turned in his sleep.

Merlin woke Arthur the moment he became too exhausted to keep his eyes open. Arthur took up his post silently and within moments Merlin's breathing had evened out and he'd become still.

Arthur couldn't help but evaluate his manservant's appearance. He was thin, but not outlandishly so. In fact, he could have even been considered handsome, if one wasn't thinking too hard about throwing something at his skull. Arthur was idly thinking about the height of Merlin's cheekbones when the servant's features severely contorted. Arthur could barely suppress the gasp that tried to slip through his lips and he watched Merlin twist against the ground, moaning almost silently.

_Merlin's dream began simply enough, he was cleaning Arthur's chambers, and of course, he didn't realise he was dreaming. He jumped and dropped a pile of dirty laundry as the door banged open and countless guards stormed Arthur's chambers, followed by the prince himself. _

_"Traitor!" the guards called out in unison as Arthur reached out to the trembling Merlin. Then suddenly Arthur was behind him, holding the blade of that dammed sword to his throat. Merlin could see the letters of his own name shimmering, taunting him. _

_"_Arthur_..." he moaned pitifully. "_Please_... you don't _understand_. I _had_ to!"_

**TBC**

**Please review if you'd like this to continue. Thanks for reading!**


	3. Nightmares

**Disclaimer: I don't own Merlin.**

**Goodness, I hate _italics_. Please enjoy. :) And since I couln't PM to thank you... Thanks, ruby890, for your lovely comments. :)  
**

**Chapter 3**

Arthur's eyes widened as his manservant confessed to some unknown crime within the dream. The words were weak; Arthur had to shift off his makeshift bed to even hear them. He had never heard his sarcastic, klutz of a manservant sound so shattered.

_In his dream, black smoke wrapped around Merlin's arms and carted him off to the courtyard, where a pyre had been built in his honour. On every log, stick, and twig his name had been carved. _Hisname_. Not _.

_Merlin thrashed as iron-strong smoke hands pinned him against the pillar, but he ceased his struggling as Arthur clamped down on his hands and wrapped a length of rope around his wrists, firmly securing him to the pillar. The crown prince of Camelot rounded him and knelt before him. Merlin gaped, but Arthur sought only to tightly secure the loyal manservant's ankles to the pillar as well. _

_The rough rope burned the tender skin of Merlin's wrists, but he knew that was nothing compared to what would soon come. _

_Arthur stood from his position at Merlin's feet, slowly, deliberately. He blocked Merlin's view of the world around them, forcing Merlin to meet the prince's eyes. _

_"You brought this on yourself," Arthur spat at him, the words felt less like prose and more like physical blows. They slammed into Merlin's unguarded face, one after another, prying a pathetic wince from him at every furious syllable. Arthur looked marginally pleased with the fear radiating from Merlin's every fibre._

_Again Arthur smirked, locking eyes with his manservant. Merlin combed those blue eyes and saw nothing but frigid waters, nothing but pure, cold ice. The venom in Arthur's voice murdered any protest from Merlin, and he believed the prince. He really did _deserve_ this. This was the result of his betrayal of Arthur, and his betrayal of Camelot. _

_Then Arthur lit the pyre. He lit it near the bottom; so that Merlin would have to suffer watching the flames climb towards him, and experience the intense heat before the blaze even reached his skin. _

_Merlin did just that. As the heat grew so too did his screams, and the cheers of all those that had come to witness the demise of the dreaded and evil sorcerer, _Emrys_. _

_Merlin wondered if any of them remembered him as _Merlin_, the clumsy boy who served the prince with all his heart. Probably not. He was just a sorcerer in their eyes now, and that too was how he would remain in their memories. _

_As the fire grew he spotted Gaius. The man was crying one moment, then the next he burning as well. Merlin had forgotten. Gaius had harboured a sorcerer, and for that he would die as well. The guilt hit Merlin hard in the gut, and tears welled in his eyes. _

_Finally, through the towering flames he saw Arthur, and the prince stood completely alone. The courtyard was empty of everyone save for the prince, though the taunting cheers still persisted. Arthur stood, peering at Merlin through the flames, a smirk planted firmly on his lips. _

_"I found you, _Emrys_." Arthur's eyes glinted with the flames. "Now, _burn_." _

_Merlin looked into those eyes and saw only hate. Hate for him, and hate for magic. He'd ruined _everything_. He tried to think past his own death, to the future he had ruined for Camelot, but the pain born from the flames made that impossible. Staring into the eyes of the crown prince, the only man he ever truly considered his nearest friend, Merlin's eyes blurred with unshed tears and smoke. Then all that filled his senses was the smell of his own burning flesh and hair, and the pain. _Pain;_ excruciating, brutal, soul-shattering agony. And then everything else was gone, leaving only the smell, the pain, the sounds of his own screeches, and the image in his mind of Arthur's face, smug, smirking, and with eyes as cold and dead as a river mid-winter. _

Merlin was screaming. Arthur didn't know what to do. The situation had escalated so suddenly; from just a few uncomfortable whimpers to full out shrieks of anguish from his manservant. The other knights were awake and ready for battle but Arthur hushed them and ordered them back to sleep. Not that anyone could sleep with such a racket. The men huffed, annoyed with Merlin's noises, but simultaneously concerned for the youngest member of the hunting party. Despite his many faults Merlin was a kind soul and no one wanted to see him in such a state. He was close to the prince, that much was obvious.

Arthur crawled over to Merlin; it was not a position that the prince would take for just anyone and he was glad no one was around to see it.

"Merlin," he whispered, trying to gently draw his servant from the nightmare.

Merlin only screamed.

"Merlin!" Arthur grasped Merlin's shoulders, shaking them harshly. "Merlin! You need to wake up this instant!"

Merlin's eyes shot open at the order, barely taking in Arthur's horrified face before pushing himself over the back of the log so that his head hung behind it, his midsection draped over it, and his knees remained planted on his bedding. His breath came in great heaves; his senses were so overwhelmed that only breathing seemed like a real option at that moment. Nausea flooded his system and he squeezed his eyes shut.

The quick movements of the lithe manservant had sent Arthur reeling backwards for the sake of self-preservation. He would have been angry, but looking at his manservant now, he could almost laugh. He looked like a young animal, trying to escape, but lacking the strength to hop over a insignificant log. It was terribly amusing, or at least it seemed so, until he heard a strangled noise coming from Merlin.

Arthur saw Merlin's back and sides judder painfully before the thin boy lurched forward, emptying the contents of his stomach behind the log. The sound was horrendous, as was the sight, but Arthur couldn't bring himself to look away. For a moment Merlin simply laid there, draped over the log, and quivering horribly.

After a few moments without taking a breath Arthur then watched as Merlin slowly began to move. Firs the manservant reached up with a tattered sleeve and dragged it across his wet lips, and then he promptly turned and slid back into bedding. His back was pressed up against the log and his knees were drawn up tightly to his chest.

Arthur cleared his throat, Merlin jumped.

"Sorry." Merlin's voice was cracked from the acid lingering in his throat.

Arthur eyed his manservant before tossing a satchel of water into his hands. Merlin drank from it tentatively before tossing it back. His hands shook with the motion; he tried to cover it by running both hands through his raven hair. It was damp with sweat, but Merlin chose to ignore that fact.

"There's nothing to be sorry for," Arthur said, a little more harshly than he had intended. He softened his tone and tried again, "What exactly was that about?"

"Just a nightmare," Merlin muttered, avoiding those eyes, they made his stomach churn. He feared terribly that if he looked up they wouldn't be the warm sky blue he knew so well, but that terrible glacial color of his dreams.

"Do you often have nightmares that made you physically ill?" Arthur arched an incredulous eyebrow. He wondered loosely if Merlin took him for a fool, but he already knew the answer to that question, and did not need it confirmed aloud with all his knights listening in.

Merlin shook his head slowly, "No."

"I see. Then what happened in this nightmare?" Arthur wanted to help his servant, but he was also quite curious about what could cause such a sudden change in Merlin. Arthur's manservant was always clumsy, sarcastic, and irritating, but never timorous.

Merlin paled and let his head fall into his knees, "Nothing."

"Don't be an idiot, Merlin," Arthur snapped. "That certainly wasn't _nothing_."

"Nothing," Merlin murmured again, as if trying to convince himself more than Arthur. Merlin murmured the word one last time and lay down, orienting his back to Arthur, so that the prince couldn't see the tears that now dripped freely down his cheeks, dampening his bedding. What could these dreams possibly mean?

No matter how much Arthur prodded Merlin for information about the horrendous dream, his manservant wouldn't utter a word. How could he? Explaining the dream would surely mean his death.

"Merlin, I'm only going to ask one more time. What is troubling you?" Arthur was still concerned, but he was now equally annoyed. The lack of response from his servant was as grating as it was disconcerting.

"Go to sleep Arthur," Merlin mumbled briskly, unable to keep the tears out of his voice. Arthur did just that, with a huff, he flopped backwards on his perfect bedding and fell asleep, pondering his servants recent madness.

Merlin however, did not have such a luxury. Every time he closed his eyes the smoke filled his nostrils and overwhelmed his senses. Every few moments he would sit up rigid, trying to fight off sickness as well as the fear that washed over him in waves.

**TBC**

**I hoped you liked this chapter, if you'd like me to continue, please review. I kind of live off your words, even when they're born of hate. ;)**


	4. Alone

**Thanks to CMatlin and BB-chan for their lovely reviews. :D**

**Disclaimer: You know the drill...**

**Enjoy! :D**

**Chapter 4 **

By morning Merlin was sure he was more exhausted than he'd been in his entire life, and Arthur looked more irritated than concerned.

"Merlin, prepare the horses," Arthur demanded, not even giving the men the opportunity to stop for breakfast. However, even Arthur could not overlook the way Merlin stumbled when he tried to walk in even a vaguely straight line. The servant was exhausted, and everyone knew why.

"Feeling alright, Merlin?" Arthur asked non-chalantly. Everyone present had heard the events that had transpired the night before, but no one dared speak a word to the servant about it. Merlin was embarrassed enough for causing such a scene, and he honestly wished Arthur would just shut his royal mouth for once.

"Fine," Merlin snapped, the word came out a little harsher than he had intended, but Arthur's face took on a prat-like quality instantly.

"Fine, _what_?" Arthur prompted, his face twisting into a perfectly pompous expression.

"Fine... _prat_?" Merlin quipped, smirking devilishly. The banter was something natural, something he didn't have to think about. For a moment he wasn't afraid of dying by Arthur's sword, he was more afraid of having something chucked at his head.

Lacking anything to throw at his servant, Arthur laid his hand on the hilt of his sword, a playful glint in his eye, "Care to try again?"

Instantly the blood drained from Merlin's face, and Arthur was sure the servant was either going to throw up again, or pass out.

Merlin was torn between the two, the fear gripped his heart so tightly that he couldn't breathe, let alone speak.

Arthur let his hand fall away from the ornate sword, "I jest, Merlin! Honestly, you're... such a girl sometimes."

"Y-yes, your highness," Merlin managed to sputter, before turning quickly on his heel and going about preparing the horses for that days hunt. He had only a few more days in this dreadful forest to bear, and then he could get Gaius to prepare him a powerful sleeping drought. Maybe Arthur would even give him a few days off... probably not.

Arthur shook his head, that boy was going to be the death of him if he didn't stop acting like a frightened animal every time Arthur made a joke.

The hunt that day was one of the most uncomfortable of Arthur's life. He knew Merlin was watching him closely, the fact itself did not bother him, he was a prince, and he was used to people staring at him. However, Merlin's face made it a different story. Merlin's features possessed such pallor that the dark bruises beneath his eyes appeared much more prominent, and his overall disposition seemed sickly. The only good thing, it seemed, about the current situation was Merlin was very quiet when he was in such a state. They had met their hunting quota for the day quickly, and efficiently. A break was well deserved, as well as well received.

It was around noon that the group stopped for the day. The early start and efficiency warranted some time to enjoy their surroundings. Not that anyone would complain, but everyone was hungry after having missed breakfast. Merlin seemed to have been hit the hardest by missing the meal, but that was likely because he had lost his dinner to the grass the night before. The manservant barely found time to eat regularly, his nutrition was as imperative as it was infrequent.

Once the horses were freed of the heavy riding equipment and drinking freely from the river they had stopped beside, Arthur approached Merlin. The young servant swayed on his feet and Arthur sighed. Exhaustion and hunger were too elements he did not entirely understand, but he knew they were extremely undesirable.

Merlin felt something soft and foreign press itself into his palm. He looked down from Arthur's warm blue eyes, in shock to see Arthur's gloved hand passing him a small hunk of bread from the rations.

"Eat something _before_ you faint," Arthur clapped his manservant on the shoulder lightly.

"I'm not going to faint," Merlin protested softly, but Arthur only shot him a doubtful look.

"Thanks," Merlin murmured and began to nibble on the bread as the eager knights built a fire to cook some of their prey.

Arthur nodded, "Go take a walk, get your head back, and don't get yourself killed."

Merlin nodded numbly and stumbled in the general direction of the forest. Once Merlin was well within the safe silence of the forest he sat down, on a mossy stump, deflating slightly. This part of the forest was really beautiful, but Merlin was also very fatigued. It was hard to enjoy such visible beauty when one's eyes wanted so desperately to close.

He stared upwards, the towering trees framed the cloudless sky with striking contrast, but even that was hard to appreciate. Merlin finished off the bread with a smile and leaned backwards again, if Arthur let him explore more often, perhaps he wouldn't hate hunting to any further extent. This was rather nice and Merlin needed nice rather desperately. The emerald forest drew a rather soothing disparity to the world of his dreams. Here he could forget. He could forget about secrets, about protecting Arthur, about that dreadful sword, even about burning pyres. He could just be Merlin. Merlin turned his face to the sky and the sun played patterns through the leaves on his pale feature. He sat peacefully, enjoying the warmth on his face and the cool radiating from the earth beneath him, pondering everything and nothing at all.

Arthur sat with his knights, laughing over something Knight Bowin had done. He'd dropped half a cup of mead over the flames, the result was a colourful blue flame.

Arthur took a swig from his own mug and laughed, "Careful Bowin, that almost looks like sorcery! I could have you—" Arthur made a cutting motion across his neck and chuckled heartily. The knights laughed uncomfortably.

Bowin paled and stammered, "It's not, Sire! I swear! Just the mead that burns like that! Always."

Arthur laughed at Bowin's distress and slapped the young man on the back, "Oh, come on! Calm yourself, man! It was just a little joke!"

All the knights chortled.

Arthur vaguely wondered where Merlin had gotten off too, but he was sure his manservant was just fine. It wasn't even dark yet; even Merlin couldn't get himself killed in broad daylight.

A rustling noise in the brush to Merlin's left jolted him back into the attractive reality that surrounded him.

"Hello?" he called out, cautiously.

"Hello," a far more confident voice called in return, causing Merlin to jump to his feet.

"Who are you?" Merlin questioned, spinning around in search of the voice's source.

A figure, hooded in a gorgeous red cloak, stepped out of the woods into the sunlight. The fine threat of the cloak caught the light, and sparkled, leaving Merlin slightly dazed. The figure paused a few feet from Merlin and grasped both sides of their hood with slender pale hands. As the hood fell away Merlin saw that the face hidden beneath it was that of an extremely handsome woman. Her hair was more blonde than even Arthur's, her skin as pale as fresh milk, and her lips were as red as her cloak. Merlin was staring. The woman cleared her throat, and even that sound was musical. Merlin couldn't help but offer his signature lopsided grin.

The woman spoke again and the atmosphere of the forest changed from contenting to intoxicating, "What are you doing all the way out here by yourself?"

Her voice lulled at Merlin's senses, he felt warm to the very tips of his fingers. "I'm not alone."

The woman's lips curled into something that resembled a smile and Merlin happily grinned back, he felt as if there was nothing to fear from _anything_, let alone this lovely woman.

"You look like you're alone."

**TBC**

**:D I hope you enjoyed that! If you'd like me to continue please comment. Suggestions are always welcome as well... though I will likely warp them. :D**


	5. Embrace from a Stranger

**Normal disclaimer applies. Thanks to ****Suzie and ****ruby890 for being awesome reviewers. :) **

**Without further delay, please enjoy!**

**Chapter 5**

The gorgeous creature in the red cloak gracefully drifted downwards and settled on a log near Merlin's stump. Merlin couldn't help but noticed how much she reminded him of a rose petal floating daintily in the soft afternoon breeze. He heaved a great satisfied sigh and sank back onto his makeshift seat. The pleasant numbness was seeping deep into his very core and he couldn't help but laugh at the wonderful feeling, "I guess, I'm kind of alone... my master is otherwise engaged."

"Master?" the woman clicked her tongue disdainfully and let her head fall back and forth slowly. "So young to be a possession."

Merlin gaped at her, "I'm not a possession!" He tried to squared his shoulders, to seem more confident and in control, but the numb feeling reached outward from the centre of his being and drew him back into a more comfortable position. His senses were so awash with numbness he couldn't tell if he was sitting on a stump or sprawled out in his own bed.

A small smile spread across the woman's lips, as they moved in unusual patterns and an unearthly clam washed over Merlin, "Very well, but you still haven't answered my question."

Merlin couldn't help but beam dopily back at the woman, his inhibitions gone for the moment, "I had a nightmare."

"What happened in your nightmare?" The woman cooed, shifting so that she had a better angle to look into his eyes, and so Merlin could more easily see hers. They were brown, but light, like honey.

Merlin didn't want to talk about the terror that had haunted his dreams, but this stranger seemed genuinely interested, and Merlin felt infinitely safe and when he was talking to her, like nothing could ever be wrong with the world again.

"I died, because of a secret," Merlin murmured, his eyes never leaving hers.

The woman's face contorted into a grin again, this one far less pretty than those prior. But Merlin didn't notice, his senses were too preoccupied with the feeling of calm flooding his entire body, the dream was no longer as dreadful or agonizing. It was just a memory among all the others in his mind, dull and trifling, there was nothing that made it stand out.

"It seems silly," he said, not bothering to avert his eyes, or hide his shame.

"What does?" the woman uttered, reaching out to brush her fingertips against the fridge of Merlin's hair that lay against his forehead.

"This nightmare business," Merlin amended, frowning slightly. "It makes me seem like a foolish little kid."

The woman bobbed her head considerately, but the words that came were cold, and ominous, "But sometimes, Merlin, nightmares come true."

As if to cover up that chilling sentiment the woman smiled more brightly than before and Merlin became content again.

Then they spoke, of many trivial things. The talked for a very long time, but it only felt like moments to Merlin. He couldn't remember what they had spoken of, but he felt no remorse in his words. It was lovely to just sit there and talk to the woman about nothing at all. For some time, he didn't fear anything at all.

Arthur stormed his way through the forest a little after sunset, _leave it to Merlin to go off, die, and cause everyone undue worry._

Arthur's crashing was loud and obvious, but not to Merlin. When woman heard Arthur coming, she stood, and Merlin followed suit.

"It has been lovely to meet you, Merlin," she thrust her arms open in an inviting gesture and Merlin stepped into them without hesitation. She closed her arms, forming a circle around his shoulders. It was warm there. Merlin could have fallen asleep and never woken again, she smelled sweet, like honey. Merlin breathed out softly, melting further into the embrace. He felt lighter, but heavier. He felt dizzy, but stabilized in her arms. The experience was ultimately enjoyable and horrible. The numbness sent any further thoughts scampering to the recesses of his mind. The embrace lasted only a moment, but it left Merlin's head mercifully clouded and amazingly dizzied.

Then the woman was gone, without even a real goodbye. Merlin still felt warm where they had touched. For a brief, fleeting moment it crossed Merlin's mind that he had never told the woman his name, yet she knew. However, he was far too at ease to dwell on that thought, or any other for that matter. He simply flopped down on the ground hard and propped his back against his stump, grinning a silly grin. It wasn't long before he began to drift off again, but fate had other plans.

"Merlin!" a roar from the Prince snapped Merlin out of his stupor and he jumped to his feet, swaying slightly.

Arthur stormed up to him, "What the _hell_ are you doing out here?"

Merlin looked sheepishly at the irate Prince, "Sorry, I dozed off..." Without even considering it, he had already decided not to mention the red-clad woman to Arthur.

"Well, don't be such an idiot from now on!" Arthur huffed. "Who am I kidding? You're too _stupid_ to help it!"

"Whatever," Merlin muttered and followed Arthur back to camp, it seemed not even the Prince could rile him.

"Good news," Arthur announced as he approached the knights bathed in the light of the fire. "Merlin's not _dead_, so he can fetchwater for the horses and make us some dinner!"

Merlin glared at Arthur for a brief moment before resigning to his fate and heading down the grassy slope to the river. In the interest of not disturbing the wildlife, the camp had been set up a little ways off from the river and Merlin had a chance to take his time. After the horses were well watered and munching happily on the fresh green grass, Merlin retreated to camp to begin his cooking duties.

Merlin produced a splendid stew from leftover meat and some spices Gaius had given him before he'd left. The men ate heartily while Merlin picked at his own dinner, sitting a ways off from the rowdy group around the flames. It took him a long time to finish his meal, but when he did he was dead tired. He was full, fuzzy, and he just wanted to fall into a deep dreamless sleep. He wasn't completely sure that the hazy feeling was a good one; in fact, it felt like a camouflage for something much more uncomfortable. Merlin didn't want to dwell on it too much; he still preferred the murky feeling to the ache it could be overshadowing. If he did, he thought perhaps the fuzzy feeling would disappear and reveal an empty feeling. Merlin shook his head, and the fog set back in.

It wasn't long before Arthur flopped down beside him, allowing him a grunted greeting, "Merlin."

Merlin looked up at Arthur and tried to smile, but it came off as more of a grimace.

The Prince wasted no time on idle chatter, "You don't have to take a watch tonight. Just get some rest." Arthur's words were spoken offhandedly as he moved to stand again. If Merlin had been thinking he would have seen that Arthur had good intentions, but Merlin's brain was in no shape for rational thought.

Merlin scowled, "No."

"Excuse me?" Arthur arched his eyebrow, his expression turning to one of pretentiousness, rather than concern. He stood, becoming but a silhouette against the bright, incandescent flames. The image made Merlin wince; it was too near his dreams.

"What did you say?" Arthur demanded, his hands falling onto his hips in a statement of his superiority.

"I'm fine. I can take the first watch," Merlin said, staring past Arthur into the flames. As much as he wanted to sleep he knew Arthur was taking pity on him, and that he hated more than he wanted sleep. Merlin was not prideful, but he did have self respect.

"Fine," Arthur relented and Merlin looked up at him, shock coloring his features.

"Stop staring at me like a drunken fish, Merlin," Arthur teased. "If your pride will not allow you some well deserved rest, then by all means..." Arthur motioned towards the fire and laid down on the bedding Merlin had laid out for him. "Enjoy."

**TBC**

**This wasn't too exciting, but, I promise, the next chapter is kind of intense. Please review if you would like this to continue. :) I'll give you a virtual cookie. ;)**


	6. Nothing

**It was amusing to write this with all the snoring going on in my house, I actually found myself typing in tune. **

**RANT: Yeah, don't read this note unless you're REALLY bored. I actually feel it is important to touch on Arthur's "jerk"ness in recent chapters. I'm sorry if I gave anyone that impression of his character, because in my head he really is a good guy. However, there are a lot of factors that play into Arthur's character (he's a prince, he's insecure, he's showing off to his knights, he's cocky... etc.). He acts like a jerk, but his intentions are mostly good. Sometimes he's a prat. Like when he told Merlin to water the horses and make dinner, in my head, that's his way of telling Merlin not to scare him by doing stupid things. He cares, but he can't express it in words the way a normal person would, so he gives orders. I'm not really focusing on Arthur's character in this story, as much as Merlin's, so I wanted to point that out. People are always complex; we can't just slap a label on and call it a day. There's always motivation, obligation, and restrictions for everyone to face, even those who are fictional. Well, that was a rant. :S Sorry.**

**Anyway, sorry for the angst in this chapter... Actual plot, coming soon. **

**Chapter 6**

When Merlin was the only one conscious, he did something reckless. He rarely used magic near the knights, and he _never_ used it around Arthur. That was just stupid. Things like this had the potential to get him killed.

Merlin extended his hand towards the roaring fire, spreading his fingers out as if he could gather all the flames into his fist. This was a simple act of magic. No words were required from one as powerful as Merlin. In theory, some of the flames would jump from the fire and land harmlessly in his open palm. From there he could manipulate the fire in any way he pleased. It was fun, and also calming for him, to have some control over something.

But _nothing_ happened. _Nothing_. No matter how he tried, Merlin couldn't do it.

He tried something else; simply levitating some tiny pebbles. Still, _nothing_.

Merlin felt like he was going to be sick again. His magic was _gone_. Suddenly the hazy feeling disappeared as well and he could feel the full brunt of the emptiness within his soul. There was still a numbness dwelling somewhere deep within him, somewhere dangerously near to his heart, but it went completely unnoticed in the despair of _losing_ his _magic_. Merlin's entire body began to tremble.

It was devastating. The vagueness of his senses, after meeting the woman, had provided a deadening effect, the kind Gaius' potions had when a patient was undergoing a uncomfortable procedure. Now that the numbness was gone, Merlin felt an agony so intense he could scarcely bear it. The blood drained from his already pale face and his shoulders slumped, so low he appeared as if he had folded in on himself completely. His magic was... _gone_. The light of the fire flickered, night birds called, and the river kept running. The world went on unperturbed by this profound loss, but his _magic_ was _gone_. Suddenly, Merlin couldn't breathe; the loss he felt within was so distinct, it was like a series of knives had penetrated every inch of his body. If his magic was gone, _what_ was he? _Who_ was he?

His mouth gaped, opening and closing, trying desperately to draw air into his lungs. He felt as if he had completely forgotten how to breathe. The air refused to enter his body, as if, without magic, he didn't even deserve the basic necessities of living. His _magic_ was _gone_. Merlin felt appallingly lightheaded. But this new numbness couldn't mask the excruciating misery that filled every fibre of his being. Everything his eyes fell on was a little bit dark and nebulous, around the edges. The dim forest beyond the fire swayed in a perverse way, bringing forth the nausea in Merlin's gut once more.

He began to tremble violently, like he was trapped in his own personal earthquake.

He had not the strength to stand, so he crawled slowly over to Arthur, on his hands and knees. He barely registered the rocks that cut into his palms and knees, leaving little pinpricks of blood in their wake. He reached out, hesitantly, and placed a quivering hand on the slumbering Prince's shoulder.

"A-Arthur," he sputtered, softly. He didn't have to move to shake Arthur's shoulder; Merlin's body was vibrating enough to wake the Prince without any conscious effort on Merlin's part.

Even in through sleep clouded eyes, Arthur could see the way Merlin's thin frame quaked. Did he have another nightmare?

"Merlin?" Arthur's voice was gentle, but authoritative. Merlin instantly regretted waking the older boy. What could he possibly say? 'I lost my magic' was hardly an acceptable admission to the crown prince of Camelot.

Instead the words that slipped out were inconsequential and completely unimpressive, "I think... I think I need to take another walk."

Arthur looked up at the expression on Merlin's face, and simply nodded, sitting up so he could take over the watch. He didn't even think to scold Merlin for abandoning his post. He couldn't help but be concerned for the wellbeing of his manservant. Something definitely wasn't right with Merlin.

Merlin didn't know where he was going. He just needed to clear his head. _Magic_. He could not think of a moment in his life when it didn't define him. When he was young is made him different. _Magic_ was the reason he left his village, his home. _Magic_ was the reason he came to Camelot. _Magic_ was the reason he had been able to save Arthur, the first time and all the subsequent times that followed. _Magic_ was the reason he had a job, as undesirable a position as it may have been. _Magic_ was his destiny. If his destiny was so powerful, so set in stone, and his magic was a major part of that preordained fate, then how could he lose his magic? If he didn't have magic, what was the point? Without that golden river of power within his being, he was just another bumbling servant. He wasn't even very good at being a servant. If he didn't have magic, what reason could he possibly have to live? Of course, there was still Arthur. But, how long could Arthur last without Merlin following him and saving him from the shadows? What became of one side of the coin when the other vanished?

Merlin collapsed in a heap by the side of the river. Then he tried everything. Every single mundane spell he had in his arsenal flowed through his lips, one directly after another. _Nothing_. Absolutely nothing. Nil happened, no matter how much he tried to force the magic to occur, or how much he relaxed and tried to let it flow out of his being like water. Nothing happened. Magic had never really been the hard thing. Everything else about this destiny had been hard, but magic was simple, magic made sense. Magic was innate to Merlin. He was a part of magic and magic was a part of him. That's how it had been since the moment he was born, and that was how it was fated to be forever. Or at least that was his foolish idealism. For all the deadly situations he had faced since he had discovered his destiny, and for every time magic had saved Arthur from peril, he never imagined that there would come a moment when magic abandoned him.

Merlin let his head slump forward and gripped his own dark locks painfully, "How did this happen?" His voice was husky with unshed tears, and suddenly they weren't unshed anymore. The salty liquid welled beneath his lids and he squeezed his eyes shut. Yet the tears still escaped and dripped down his pale cheeks, without restraint.

There had to be a reason. Magic didn't just disappear; as ironic as that would be. Merlin had never heard of it happening before, nor had he ever considered it a possibility. It didn't make sense. Merlin knew he couldn't return to camp like this, all teary eyed and broken. Arthur would surely call him a girl. He dragged his sleeve across his eyes and stripped himself of his clothes. The air was chilly, but the water would hopefully have retained some of the warmth from a day in the sun.

The river lapped against his toes, sending little spikes of pain up his legs, straight to his brain. It was entirely unpleasant, but the discomfort wasn't numbness, so he kept going. It was colder than he had expected, but he didn't mind, it didn't matter as long as he could still feel the cold. When the water kissed his upper thigh he dove beneath the surface with a splash. The shock was enough to drive the air from his lungs, so he surfaced, gasping.

The water was frigid enough to make his teeth chatter nosily in his skull, but at least in the water he was weightless. In the water he couldn't feel the heavy burden of a destiny without magic. It was still there, of course, but it was suspended beside him, rather than pressing down hard upon him.

Merlin allowed himself to sink into the murky depths, leaving the ample questions somewhere above him. His skin seemed to glow in the water and he wondered how the light of the moon reached him even under the dark veil of the water. The water stung his eyes, but he paid it no heed. It felt so good just to float beneath the surface of the water. He knew he would need the oxygen of the outside world soon enough, but for that moment, all he wanted to do was float, and forget.

When the burning in his lungs became too much to maintain Merlin surfaced, gasping and sputtering. He blinked the water from his eyes and grimaced. Arthur was standing on the bank of the river. His arms were pressed firmly across his chest, and he did not look at all pleased.

**TBC...**

**Please review, it let's my heart keep beating. If you saw the magic thing coming, please tell me. I'm just curious to see who figured it out. ;)**


	7. Watchful

**I said I'd be back! :D Um... I hate this chapter. It may change eventually... but I wanted to give you _something_. Anyway... enjoy!**

**Disclaimer: Actually I own the world... this little world inside my own head. But I don't own Merlin in the real world... **

**Chapter 7**

"Swimming, are we?" Arthur rebuked. He would never admit it, not for all the riches in the world, but upon seeing Merlin submerged in the river, unmoving, he had only been moments away from diving in to save his servant. There was an unnatural and overwhelming relief in his heart that came with the knowledge that Merlin was not dead, only dim-witted.

Merlin flushed, and sank a little lower in the water, "Just... clearing my head, Sire."

"Hm," Arthur murmured. "I hope it's well and clear now."

Merlin bobbed his head quickly in the water, creating a ring of ripples, much like a halo, "It is."

Arthur spotted the lie with ease, but said nothing about it, "Get out of the water, before... you catch a chill."

If Merlin hadn't been listening he knew he wouldn't have heard those words, in fact, he wasn't sure if he had heard correctly as it was, "Y-yes, Sire." It really wasn't like Arthur to _care_.

Arthur turned on his heel and left without another word. He didn't know what was going on with Merlin, but he didn't like it one iota.

Merlin waited until he was sure Arthur had travelled a respectable distance back towards the camp. He may have lost his magic, but he still had most of his modesty. He stood; dripping wet by the river. Bathed in moonlight his pale skin was almost like a light in the darkness of the night. He hoped no one could see him from the camp, though it mattered little, everyone was sleeping now.

It wasn't long before Merlin was sitting back in front of the fire, his hair still dripping, but the rest of him comfortably warm and dry. He sat near to the fire, but enough of a space away that he was not in even the most remote danger of touching the flames. He liked the fire exactly where it was, in the fire pit. Arthur sat a little ways off, gazing into the darkness of the forest that surrounded them, his eyes ever watchful for enemies. Merlin knew they were all safe when Arthur was keeping watch; the Prince would never fall asleep or leave his post unattended. That was just the kind of Prince, just the kind of man, Arthur was. Merlin would never admit aloud how much he admired Prince Arthur. He had hoped to be a part of what Arthur was destined to become, to create, but that hope was dashed now, mercilessly crushed into the ground. All he could do to help Arthur now was polish his armour. Merlin supposed that was exactly what he would do, if it was truly all he could. He doubted destiny would let him escape Arthur's side, even if he lacked the power of the old religion. He couldn't help but be resigned to whatever fate befell him now.

It was good to know that Arthur was watching out for everyone around the fire, but fear still struck Merlin's heart. As Arthur watched, Merlin knew he was safe from any outside assault, but it was attacks from the inside his self that he feared the most. If he closed his eyes, would he live through that nightmare again? Would a new one come forth to torment him? He wouldn't know until he let himself drift off and it was just too tired to try to stay awake. It didn't matter that he was terrified of what sat in waiting for him, within his own subconscious. He was simply too weary to be bothered now.

_"Merlin..."_

_Merlin shifted, burying his head deeper into the crook of his arm. Why would anyone call on him so early? It was cruel!_

_"Merlin..." the voice was unusual, emotionless and menacing, all in the same breath. _

_Merlin's eyes fluttered open and he looked at Arthur looming over him. That face certainly didn't suit that horrid voice. The fire had died out and the knights were already up and ambling about the campsite, but still things seemed wrong. _

_"M'sorry. I guess I overslept," Merlin muttered, scrambling to his feet. Upon heari_ng _Merlin's voice the knights began to gather aimlessly around the servant and master. _

_"Merlin..." Arthur's voice was suddenly dead, heavy with something Merlin couldn't quite identify, and that frightened him._

_"What's going on, Arthur?" Merlin inquired softly. The atmosphere was all wrong here. Now that he finally let his eyes wander from Arthur's face, everything was wrong here. The sky was an off black color and the air was thick with an unidentifiable stench. Merlin coughed, this was an odour he'd experienced before. _

_Suddenly the black sky darkened and eyes of the knights began to glow a pulsating, ominous red. Merlin's arms wrapped around his slight body, as if trying to act as a shield against the Knights' steady and unnerving gaze. He suddenly felt very, very small, and very, very frightened. Arthur seemed to tower over Merlin, growing taller with every second that passed. Merlin trembled, looking up at the future King with misty, unblinking eyes._

_"Merlin..."_

_"Arthur, what's happening?" His voice was so utterly desperate. Merlin bit his lip, and tried to steady himself. The sense of impending doom was almost overwhelming now, and there seemed nothing he could do to save himself. His life would end, and no one would ever know, except for a handful of knights and the Prince of Camelot himself. Would they carry back only his name, sullied in accusations of treachery? Did it even matter now? Gaius would be so disappointed. _

_"You betrayed me, Merlin." Arthur's voiced hissed in a terribly unearthly way, black smoke forming around his head in a way not completely unlike a halo. _

_Merlin shook his head, ambling forward clumsily, so he could look Arthur directly in the eye, "I didn't. I just did it to protect you!"_

_Arthur simply shook his head in lament, "I can't forgive you, Merlin."_

_"But, Arthur... it was... it was _destiny_."_

Destiny. What an unusual thing for Merlin to say while he was dreaming. Arthur had never known his manservant to talk in his sleep, but now that he had picked up the habit night watch was becoming much more interesting.

Arthur studied Merlin's contorted face, with dismay. Watching Merlin was only entertaining up to a point, now he was just apprehensive. He desperately wanted to reach out and smooth that face free of the pain that haunted it's every feature. It would be far too inappropriate for the Crowned Prince to take such a _delicate_ action, but that did not free him of the urge. Arthur shook his head, what on Earth was he thinking? It was just that Merlin looked like he was in so much distress... Arthur didn't want to see him suffer like that, they were _friends_. Arthur considered shaking Merlin awake, but the servant had slept so little lately, it seemed too cruel to wake him even if it left him stranded in some sort of nightmare.

_Merlin shrank inwards on himself as the knights around him were suddenly closing in, leaving Arthur outside the circle of vicious armour, grinning maliciously. _

_"You betrayed me, Merlin..." he jeered. "You betrayed everyone."_

_Merlin shook his head earnestly, "No! I did it _for_ you!"_

_"For _me_? For me you _lied_? For me, you _condemned_ Gaius? What good have you ever done for me? You weren't even a good servant." Arthur said darkly, his words no more than a hiss. _

_Merlin moaned pitifully as the knights pressed so closely around him that he felt as if he might never be able to breathe again. _

_Suddenly the fire was burning brightly, barely contained within the pit that waited only a few feet away._

_"No!" Merlin screeched. "NO!"_

_Without warning the knights reached towards him, a flurry of metal, outstretched fingers. Merlin struggled viciously, trying to hit them away with all the might in him, but their hands were far too strong, and his magic was still gone. Suddenly, they weren't armour clad fists any longer, they were black smoke. The transition was so sudden than it sent Merlin to ground in a sprawl._

_Many hands became one, wispy and made of only smoke, but far too real for Merlin. The giant fingers wrapped around Merlin, constricting him, crushing him with some sort of invisible strength, "A-Arthur... help me..." he wheezed those words with the last of the air in his lungs._

**TBC**

**:DDDDD**


	8. Fine

**Chapter 8**

**Short chapter, but it's been so long you guys deserve something. Sorry! I haven't written anything creative in a while so the writing will probably be even worse than usual, sorry.**

Merlin was asking for _his_ help now. Arthur couldn't stop his own hands from reaching out. He no longer cared that his knights might be watching him in this moment great concern. What kind of Prince would he be if he ignored cries for his help, even from a servant boy?

_The black smoke hoisted Merlin off the ground by his arms, just far enough above the Earth that his toes dragged painfully on the rough ground. He hung his head, unable to look Arthur in the eye now._

_"Arthur... why?" he whispered, so quietly he doubted the Prince would hear him._

_But he did, and replied without mercy, "You were disloyal, Merlin. You betrayed me. You betrayed all of Camelot," Arthur watched, defiantly as the smoke thrust Merlin towards the flames. Merlin stumbled into the pit, unable to stop himself. Arthur grinned, "And for that you will burn, _Emrys_."_

_Merlin couldn't escape the flames, nor did he try. He simply sank into hottest depths of the inferno and tried not to scream. It was that moment of silent pain that brought the voice to him..._

"Damn it, Merlin," Arthur grabbed the manservant by both shoulders and shook him hard. "Wake up!"

Merlin screamed. The scream shook Arthur, to his very core, he had seen many things, on the battle field, and off, but nothing had ever sounded as painful as Merlin's screaming. When those eyes flickered open, the fear in them was so intense that it seemed to pour out, infecting Arthur with a quiver of panic.

The servant looked up at him with eyes wild, as wide as plates.

"Damn it, Merlin, what the hell did you dream about?" the Prince demanded.

Hot tears clouded Merlin's frightened eyes, but he blinked quickly to keep from crying, "N-Nothing."

That was not _nothing_. Arthur knew it. Merlin knew it.

Hot nausea coiled in the pit of Merlin's stomach and he swallowed hard to keep it a feeling rather than a reality.

Arthur grasped Merlin's bony arm with an iron grasp. Merlin's face crumbled, this treatment was too similar to his dream. Arthur took deep steadying breaths, until he cooled off enough to speak to Merlin in a civilized tone.

Merlin slumped backwards with a loud exhale of breath, he wondered if he could even remember what a full night's sleep felt like.

"So tell me. Whatever is making you so upset?" Arthur whispered, trying to keep his words from the prying ears of the knights all around them.

Merlin didn't look up at meet Arthur's prying gaze, "I can't Arthur. I just can't." He whispered, attempting to match Arthur's tone.

"Come _on_, Merlin. Of all things, you can tell me this." Arthur murmured, sarcastically. "I've told you about all of _my_ nightmares."

"Your dreams have some sense," Merlin scoffed, loudly.

"Then let me help you make sense of yours!" Arthur's whisper was sharp, but still quiet. "What is it that you dream of?"

"Just leave it alone, Arthur. Just _leave_ it!" Merlin, snapped, the words coming out with all the hatred and intensity that he had intended, and instantly regretted.

The words hit Arthur like weak blows, they stung, but they only made him angry, resentful, and defensive. He'd been trying to help Merlin, but if Merlin intended to be an ingrate then Arthur had no motivation to waste his efforts.

"Fine. Whatever, Merlin. Do whatever you want, just stop dragging everyone else into your problems." Arthur snapped, glaring down on Merlin. Merlin stared back unflinchingly despite the terror resonating through his entire body.

"Fine!" Merlin snapped, stalking awkwardly away from his Royal Pratness.

Arthur slowly ran a hand over his face in exasperation. Why couldn't Merlin just accept his help? Arthur followed slowly behind his distressed servant, his mind lost in their hurried exchange. What was Merlin going on about? There was only one conclusion. Merlin had gone completely mad.

Merlin squeezed his eyes shut, but forced himself to remain conscious, there was no way he was ever going to sleep again, at least not until he'd talked to Gaius.

"Merlin!" Arthur shouted at Merlin's back, his voice as cold as ice. Merlin didn't acknowledge Arthur.

"Merlin!" Arthur demanded. "Pack up, we're going back."

Merlin turned, eyeing Arthur slowly, "Fine."

**TBC**


End file.
